


If I Had To Say Goodbye Tonight, Would You Still Choose to Love Me?

by Savorysavery



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Possible Character Death, Romance, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-27 00:00:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6261097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savorysavery/pseuds/Savorysavery





	If I Had To Say Goodbye Tonight, Would You Still Choose to Love Me?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ephi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ephi/gifts).



**Summary:** Duty always wins in the end, doesn’t it?

 **Genres:** Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

 **Rated:**  T+

 **Warnings:** Mentions of previous sexual intimacy

 

 **Author’s Note** : I’m writing this after I fell really, _really hard_ into ML. I got into it the past weekend at an anime convention, and honestly, I can’t not love it: it’s good writing, good characters, and a beautiful French animation. Also, this is for my friend Kynero and **[the silent comic they did here](http://kynero.tumblr.com/post/140774003370/i-think-this-is-the-longest-comic-i-ever-did-on)**. I suggest reading this story along with the comic, as I intended it as my take on the events. Without further ado -and hopefully, with two windows side by side, here’s my story.

* * *

 

 

To Ladybug, it was all just a dark, very off-kilter joke, the kind of thing that would return Chat Noir’s features back into soft smiles and flirty green eyes. The kind of thing that wasn’t so forever.

But seeing someone fade like that was never a joke: even at nineteen, even after how many tragedies Ladybug had paid witness to, it was never a joke.

“Are you here with me?” she asked again, and for emphasis, she held out her hand, still waiting for Chat’s touch, for the solid feel of his fist. When it didn’t come, she dropped her hand, and accepted the reality of the situation: Papillon had fallen, swallowed up in a black, sweeping depth, gone before their eyes. Ladybug wasn’t sure she was ready to swallow the pill of him possibly being dead: she had to hope he was still alive.

“Chat,” she whispered, breathing his name and he closed his eyes, hand gripping the pole next to him, so tight that his gloves were flexing, squeaking from the tension on the seams. “Please…” She reached out, unfolding her fingers, and that’s when it happened.

He swept back, cat quick, and began to laugh, eyes darkening, green brightness turning dim. Something had turned him, and for once, there was no Akuma to gobble up, no monster of the day: there was just Chat Noir, breaking down, cackling. “I can’t believe it,” he breathed, throwing his arms up. “It’s done, isn’t it?” He sighed once more and threw his hand out over the water. “How could I have been so _dumb_ for so long?!” With a quick step, Chat turned, and headed away, but Ladybug was lucky and quick, and she caught his arm. “Let go, Ladybug.”

“No!”

“Let go!”

“You’re being rash, you idiot!”

“Shut up and let _go_!”

“No, Chat!” Ladybug growled out, and he turned, and pulled on her grip. She held tight. “ _Adrien_!” That made him stop his actions, quick, fast, and it stuck him to spot. He looked at her, hard, and for once, Ladybug felt like she was being looked **through** , felt like she was paper thin. Her hands loosed, grip slackened, and Chat pulled through and away, leading her hands empty. “What’s wrong?”

“ _Everything_ ,” Chat whispered, and he leaned forward, breeching the bubble of space around Marinette. “We might have just _killed_ my father.”

“But…he looked like all the other times. Sure, he might have had a lot of Akuma, but we-”

“ _Disappeared_ , Marinette.” The syllables of her name were hard: Ma. rin. ne. tte. click-clacking around her brain, marbles in her head. He must have been hurting -truly aching- to use her name when anyone could hear. “tell me, do you see him? Are you _lucky_ enough to find _that_ solution?”

“No, but I-”

“But _what_?” He was closer now, his hand curling up like a sharp, honed paw. It made her shudder in fright, unease bubbling in her gut. “You’ll _restore_ things, fix it back?”

She felt her eyes sting, felt the corners of her mask free from her face as her cheeks heated up, and felt a tightness fill her chest. Adrien realized he’d made a mistake, that his anger had pushed him, and in the haze of it, he instantly regretted it. “Ladybug, I-”

“ _Marinette_ ,” Ladybug barked, through the tears rolling down her cheek. She felt Tikki thrum against her chest, right over her heart, and it only made her cry harder. “If you’re going to do _this_ , then call me by name. I _deserve_ that if you’re going to be mean.

“Marinette, I-“

“I didn’t know,” Marinette stated, and she hitched her chin up to look at him. “I… I just had to do what was right. How could I have known we were fighting your _father_? That Papillon was in the wave of akuma? How could I have known I’d _hurt_ you, Adrien? Honestly, you’re being so daft! Are you telling me you’d have done _differently_?”

Silence settled heavily between them, blanket thick, and for a moment, Marinette saw _hope_ in his eyes. But that was swallowed up by a darkness more potent than any Akuma. “Yeah, I would have. I’d never make a _mistake_.”

Marinette stepped back unconsciously, hands shaking, and she nodded. “I can’t believe that, Chat. You’re… Adrien, that’s not _you_.”

“I know,” he answered, more to the first statement than the last. “That’s why I’ll always love you, Marinette,” Adrien said, chuckling even through his tears Marinette wanted so _desperately_ to step close, but she feared that he’d zip away, break the moment. “But I have to do what’s right too, and that means protecting my father.”

“So you’ll stand against me? Against doing what’s _right_ , Adrien?” Marinette whispered, brow knit together in frustration.

“I’ll stand with my morals,” Adrien stated. “I fought to protect this city. Now… Well, I’ll keep doing that.”

Marinette was still, knees soft as butter, and she pitched forward, hand raised to grasp at the air. She was falling, she realized, and there was a soft sound: a boot, slick, squelching on the pavement and suddenly, Chat - _Adrien_ \- was right _there_ , embracing her, holding her tight to her chest. She let out a full sob then, felt her heart break, felt the twist of the knife, and let out a keening cry, red, sticky nose making a mess of his jacket. Adrien let her cry there, let her go limp until she was a soggy mess, let her gain her composure enough to step back.

When she did, her blue eyes were red, pupils small pinpricks, and her nose was red. It brought to mind the last time Marinette had been sick: Adrien had come over to her house, and the four of them -Adrien, Marinette, Plagg, and Tikki-  and watched movies from dawn to dusk, sometimes with a snoring Marinette, sometimes with a wide awake Marinette. It’d been the same night they’d been intimate: he remembered the fever of her skin, the blush that was more from nerves than a head cold, and the feel of warmth that had embraced him as he slid within her, feeling more connected to a person that he had before. He was thankful that Tikki had been so keen: she’d distracted Plagg with cheese, leaving them in the warmth of a quiet, empty house on a quiet, empty couch.

In this moment, Adrien imagined Marinette to be the same girl that night: vulnerable and curious all the same, waiting for the next moment.

It made him feel so guilty for this betrayal, and prompted his next words.

“I won’t tell him,” Adrien began. “No matter what, Marinette. He’ll never know who you are.”

“How do you even know he’s… _alive_?” she asked.

“Surely, Papillon… _father_ , is strong enough to only be on the cusp. I’ll tend to him, pay the bills, and we’ll… continue forward.”

“You’re his son,” she countered, voice soft yet sharp. She couldn’t bring her eyes up at this moment, couldn’t look Adrien in the face. “How can I trust you?”

“I guess we’ll see. I’m almost out of time anyways. Guess I should go give dad his birthday gift, right?” Adrien flashed a smile -that butter melting, soft, charming smile that he had _always_ given Marinette- and leapt, suctioning to the side of a building as he scampered off. Moments later, he was on the other side of the Eiffel Tower, the water separating them between, a tangible barrier. Marinette sighed, sniffled, and forced herself to watch him go until the last bit of his belt, lashing in the wind, disappeared, too far to see in the distance.


End file.
